Revive - A Quarterly Fly Fishing Journal | Page 137

As the shadows from the passing clouds begin to become more intermittent, the moon starts to fall away towards the west, over the cascades, and a new more colorful heavenly body starts its morning ritual.

Rising , slowly at first, the blaze of orange and red accompanies royal pinks and purples from the east.

A new day with new beginnings marked by a dew that rests heavy on the limbs of the dessert shrubbery.

The rabbits and mice and groundhogs make their way along the dust covered paths woven into the floor of the desert and take their drink from the leaves and stems that will soon be dry once again.

Rivers of life roar and become more readily measurable in the infant light of day, kissed by the colors of the sky, waiting to be entered. The silence changes now.

Each step now calculable and measured one begins to feel the cool air lift over the gray and brown of the canyon wall.

Mist clings to the surface of the river but eventually it will wear away too, much like the doubts caused by the dark of night mere hours before.